Forgiveness
by CrysWimmer
Summary: COMPLETE! (2003 Miniseries) While Starbuck and Apollo seemed to resolved their issues at the end of the miniseries, Kara and Lee may not have...
1. Issues

Forgiveness  
  
By Crystal Wimmer  
  
Chapter 1  
  
If there were such a thing as starting over, Kara Thrace would have done so. Immediately. Without thought. Without regret. But some things you couldn't take back, and lying to your best friend for two years about the most important thing in either of your lives was one of them.  
  
She had lied. Yes, she admitted that much. Further, she'd admitted it to him. But at this point she couldn't decide which had been worse: the lie, or the action she had lied about. How did you just tell a man that you'd killed his brother? Straight up with no warning and less explanation certainly wasn't it. The look on Lee's face when she'd told him had been worse than when she'd killed his brother.  
  
Okay, she hadn't actually pulled a trigger, or done anything direct to make sure the plane crashed. But she hadn't prevented it either, when she'd had the power to do so within her grasp. Granted, she hadn't known what her tolerance would do. She hadn't known she wouldn't have the chance to fix her mistake. But she had done it all, just the same. If anything, her good intentions had made the action worse.  
  
But good intentions aside, she couldn't lie any longer. Lee had been her best friend for longer than she could remember. From a time when she had been a scabby kneed brat who didn't know her fist from her foot, she had relied on his judgement and his understanding. She simply couldn't accept those things from him under false pretenses any longer. He had always given her honesty, whether she liked it or not. Did she really have a choice about giving him the same?  
  
"Hey."  
  
Kara looked up, startled from her thoughts by the very man she had been thinking of. He stood in the doorway of the pilot's quarters. Lee Adama was far more welcome than her last visitor had been, and yet she still wasn't entirely comfortable with him at the moment. She settled for a simple, "Hey," in reply, rather than giving him the hug that she so desperately wanted to give, and maybe needed in return. She was in no mood to be rejected outright.  
  
"Can we talk?"  
  
He entered slowly, and he didn't look any more sure of her than she was of him.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She hadn't yet managed to stand, caught somewhere between shock and fear at his appearance. He didn't look like he minded. In fact, he sat down next to her on her bunk with a sigh that rivaled what she was feeling. With the load she had dropped on him, there was little wonder why he looked like he was carrying a heavy burden.  
  
"I don't know where to start," he began. His eyes met hers and then dodged away. It had been a long time since he hadn't been able to look her in the eye.  
  
"The beginning's always a good place," she suggested wryly.  
  
His mouth quirked in what could have been a smile, and Kara's stomach relaxed a bit. He was still Lee, whatever she had done to him.  
  
"When was that?" He asked as he lay back on her bed, eyes closing. She smiled at him finally, while he couldn't see her. "You've always been there," he muttered, echoing her previous thoughts. "You've always been around, one way or another. A part of me figured you always would be."  
  
Kara lay back next to Lee and smiled broadly. "Two peas in a pod?"  
  
"Three," he corrected simply. "You, me, and Zak."  
  
"I remember." Her voice was soft with regret and pain.  
  
"Even though you were in my class, you spent more time hanging with him than me in school," Lee reminisced. "Half the time I felt like I had two kid brothers instead of one."  
  
"You two always put up with a girl hanging around."  
  
He did laugh at that. "You weren't a traditional girl," Lee reminded her. "I don't think I ever saw paint or skirts on you."  
  
"Would've slowed me down," she told him. "I had to keep up with you two."  
  
Lee reached over and took her hand, making her stomach drop. It had been a long time since he had offered such a gesture. The last time, as best she could remember, had been at the funeral. She had been hurting so much that she'd pulled away when what she had wanted was to grab on and hold tight. "I was surprised you left him for the academy. He was only three years behind us."  
  
"I wanted to fly," she said simply.  
  
"And fly you did. Hell, you even left me in your vapor trail. You went from student to instructor in record time. I don't think I've ever seen anyone more comfortable in a cockpit. You have instincts I don't even understand."  
  
"It felt right," she told him softly.  
  
"And teaching?"  
  
She shrugged, then squeezed his hand realizing he couldn't see her with his eyes still closed. "I enjoyed it," she admitted. "And I hated it."  
  
"When someone didn't have it," Lee said gently. Then, looking at her, "Someone like Zak."  
  
"I loved Zak," she whispered, admitting to him he must have already known. "He was a brother, and a friend, and my fiancé, and more than anything in the world he wanted to be like you, like your father. No, he didn't have it. He wasn't a natural in the cockpit, but he could have learned. What he lacked in instinct he could have made up for in hard work and logic, like he always had. But he couldn't move forward until he'd passed Basic Flight."  
  
"So you passed him," Lee said, his voice breaking. "Knowing he wasn't fit to fly, you passed him."  
  
"He could fly, he just couldn't land," she said on a sigh. "I passed him," she admitted again. "I thought we'd have time to work on his technique. Hell, I was looking forward to it."  
  
Lee picked himself up onto one elbow and looked down at her. "Why couldn't you have done that and then passed him?" he asked, his voice strained.  
  
"Because he wasn't you," she said, her voice breaking slightly. She cleared her throat before continuing. She'd never fallen apart in front of Lee, not even at the funeral when she'd felt like she was dying. She wouldn't start crying like a baby now. "Lee, not everyone has the confidence that you do. You know what you can do, and how to do it better than anyone. Even when you're wrong you have this way of making it sound like you're right. Zak didn't have that. He was young, and scared, and that was half his problem in the cockpit. If he could have found half the confidence you have, he would have been an ace. But he didn't have it. He wanted it, though. Lords, how he wanted it. It was all he wanted. I knew he couldn't do the job, but I couldn't take it away from him. I don't think he could have survived it, so I decided to do it my way."  
  
"Your way cost him his life," Lee reminded her.  
  
"I know that," she said, finally losing the hold she'd kept on her emotions, and with it control over the single tear that would give her away. She felt its warmth trailing down her right cheek, followed by an icy chill. "I don't expect you to forgive me," she admitted, shrugging to wipe the tear away on her arm.  
  
"I already have."  
  
Kara met Lee's eyes, seeing only honesty and sadness there, rather than the anger she had feared. She didn't understand. "But, " she began, and had no clue how to continue.  
  
"I know you loved him," Lee told her. "I know you would have died before you let him hurt himself. When we were kids, we used to spend half our time getting him out of one mess or another. I can't blame you when you're so busy blaming yourself."  
  
She didn't understand. Lee could, and had, held grudges for less reason than this for years. There was no way it could be this easy. He'd never even forgiven his own father, and William Adama hadn't done anything in the first place.  
  
"But," she tried again. "If you can forgive me?"  
  
"Why couldn't I forgive my dad?" he finished her question.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He shrugged his upper shoulder, then lay back down on the bed, eyes closing. "Maybe because he never admitted responsibility," he wondered aloud. "Or maybe because his goal would have been personal rather than for Zak. You did it because you wanted him to be happy and have a chance. I figured Dad did it because he wanted Zak to be like me. I don't know. Maybe I can forgive you because you're human, and Dad's never seemed like that. A ruler, yes. A god, sometimes. But he's never just been my dad."  
  
"You had to know he loved Zak," Kara offered. "I knew that, even from the outside."  
  
"What I knew is that he always pushed," Lee told her. "He pushed for grades, pushed for choices, and even pushed for relationships. He made all the choices for us, and unless we just flat out told him 'no' he couldn't let it be. I got really good at telling him 'no', but Zak never did."  
  
"Relationships," Kara muttered, latching on to that one word. "You're saying that the only reason Zak and I were together was because of your dad's master plan or something?" She didn't like the implications of that statement. She really didn't like the idea that Zak might have been with her because of anything besides who she was. Lee was silent for a long time. Too long. "Lee?"  
  
"I'm just saying that Dad thought a lot of you. He was really happy when you and Zak got engaged."  
  
"But, was it his choice, or Zak's?"  
  
"Zak could have told him 'no'," Lee said gently. "Just because he may have encouraged it, he couldn't have changed Zak's feelings. I'm just saying that Dad always had a hand in what we did. He pushed us, sometimes in big ways and sometimes more subtle, but he was always pushing."  
  
"Zak didn't have the same defenses against him that you do," Kara said quietly. "You'd do just the opposite to prove that you could, but Zak would aim to please."  
  
"He wanted my dad's approval, yes."  
  
"Did he ever push you in my direction," Kara asked, fearing she already knew the answer. "Or was it just Zak?"  
  
Lee's silence stretched this time, longer than it had before. Finally, he answered her. "It's hard to know, because I was always headed your direction in the first place."  
  
"What?"  
  
"When he suggested you for accompanying me to closing ceremonies, I'd already pretty much decided it was a good idea. When he suggested that we look into the same Flight Training center so that we'd have a friend nearby, I already had the same idea. So it's hard to know if he was pushing me or not, because I was so damn busy agreeing with him that I wouldn't have noticed. It's probably the same with Zak. Even if Dad was suggesting, Zak was already facing your direction. He'd been half in love with you since you turned fifteen and he caught you coming out of the shower. Nothing like hormones to ruin a kid for life." The last had been said with a distinct grin what could have been a wink.  
  
Kara wasn't sure. She wasn't sure she cared. She sat up on the edge of the bed, only vaguely realizing that her eyes were dry again and she was feeling more fury than fear or uncertainty. "Was your father responsible for suggesting that Zak ask me to marry him?" she asked simply.  
  
"I don't remember," Lee answered. "But it wouldn't surprise me. He suggested that I ask you out a couple of times. He figured because we were friends, and closer to the same age, that we might be a good match."  
  
"Thank goodness you're immune to your father's wishes," Kara said bitterly. She didn't like to think of herself as requiring a cheering section to get a date. No, she hadn't had many dates in school. She tended to intimidate boys, and that didn't bother her. If they couldn't get up nerve to ask her out, she certainly didn't want a relationship where she could ride herd over them. She was better off alone, as she'd always been. Always, except for when she and Zak had been a couple. Knowing that might have been coerced bothered her more than she cared to admit, on more levels than she consciously understood.  
  
"I'm immune," Lee granted. "But I still wouldn't have dated you."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He smiled at that. "You were - are - my best friend. That isn't something I want to mess with. I was worried enough about having you as a sister-in- law without everything changing. When something's good, I don't want to mess with it."  
  
"So that's why you've forgiven me," she reasoned quietly. "Because you don't want to mess with a friendship?"  
  
"No, because you never meant to hurt him. Because your reasons were noble, even if your actions weren't. And maybe because you're hurting enough without me adding to that. Maybe I'm just tired of blaming anyone. Mostly though, because you're the one other person in the world that loved Zak for himself, and not for what he could have been or might have been. He needed that from someone, and he wouldn't take it from me."  
  
"He'd take anything from you, Lee. Even scraps."  
  
Lee sighed heavily, then reached for the hand she had taken back when she'd sat up. "You, too," he said softly. "That's why I really can't blame you for giving it to him."  
  
"He never felt good enough," she agreed. "His father was the mighty Commander Adama, and his brother the great Apollo. He didn't think being 'Zak' was good enough."  
  
"And his girlfriend the legendary Starbuck," Lee added. "I guess that is a lot to live up to."  
  
She lay back on the bed, half tugged by Lee's hand and half resigned to the guilt that had become a part of her. "Either way, I let him down."  
  
"We both did," Lee agreed softly. "I could have worked with him before he tested, maybe got his skills up to snuff, but I didn't have the time. Or, I wouldn't take the time is more like it. I wanted him to realize that he wasn't a pilot and move on to something he liked more. Something that he could be good at."  
  
"So, you were pushing him just as much as your father was," she reasoned.  
  
"In a different direction," he admitted. "But yeah, I pushed him, too."  
  
"And now we don't have anyone to push," she said softly.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
(to be continued) 


	2. Correction

My sincere thanks to all that commented on the first chapter. It's wonderful to know that you think I'm on the right track. Because the information in the miniseries was limited, I'm going back to the original series for a few details; hopefully I won't get too far off.  
  
Forgiveness can have many levels, and a single action can affect many others.  
  
Forgiveness By Crystal Wimmer  
  
Chapter 2  
  
William Adama removed his glasses as he pushed back from his desk. He was exhausted, and it was going to take more than a short nap with his head on his arm to get over it. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, hoping for at least temporary relief from the persistent throb that had taken up residence behind his eyes.  
  
It had been an absolutely exhausting week. An exhausting few weeks, truth be told. While he had never been one to shirk responsibility or resent command, he seriously wished that the retirement he had anticipated had occurred. He was tired - mentally and physically - and it was a fatigue that even a good night's sleep, assuming he could manage it, would never relieve.  
  
He was getting old. It was a sad fact of life, but the eager and courageous Viper pilot belonged in the same salvage yard that Tyrol had found his ship in. He wasn't "Husker" anymore, responsible for only himself and his ship, he was Commander of the last survivors of a race.  
  
That was probably an exaggeration. His command was as much volunteer as it was expected. They had a President, such as she was, and if he could really believe in her he could let her take over. She would probably be eager to do so. But there was too much distrust in the past between military organization and political leaders for him to just hand over the Battlestar and hope for the best.  
  
It wasn't that she was a woman. Really, it wasn't. It wasn't even that she was essentially a glorified school teacher, although their initial disagreements upon the technological status of his warship was still a sore point with him. The reality was that he had always believed he knew best - whoever he was pitted against. Military, political, or even within his own family. He didn't have it in him to back down from a battle. Lee had inherited that from him.  
  
Lee. His son. His last surviving family member. The reality of that still stabbed him at odd moments, just when he thought he was getting used to it. But grief was a luxury that none of them could afford. As he had told the crew, they must mourn the dead later. For now, survival was the most important factor.  
  
He'd been alone for the majority of his career. One did not become the commander of a Battlestar by sitting at home and building models with one's children. That had been the primary reason for his divorce - Iilya had needed someone who would stay home with her. She had managed while the children were with her, but once Lee and Kara had left home, and then Zak, she had found the isolation too much. She had requested the separation, and had taken care of the legalities with little assistance from him. But even following the demise of his marriage, a part of him had known she was still there. She wasn't his any longer, and hadn't really been for years, but she'd been there.  
  
She wasn't there anymore. She was gone. Zak was gone, and Lee was as good as dead to him. There were times William thought it would be easier if his son had really died in the perceived "explosion", but he knew better. Even if Lee spent the next fifty years screaming at him over something he'd had no control over, even if he never forgave him the sin of wanting his sons to be like him, just knowing that Lee was alive to hate him was almost enough. Almost.  
  
The accusations still hurt, of course. The kernel of truth in them placed an edge on the blade that Lee used. Maybe he had pushed his boys, but didn't every father want his children to follow in his footsteps? He'd never demanded that they go into flight training. He had encouraged it, of course, and perhaps it was easier for his boys to slip into the limited training programs because their last name was Adama. He'd never asked for that. It had simply been.  
  
But the problem was that Lee was far too much like him. Just as William had built a career on knowing the right answer, on making the right decision in the heat of the moment, so Captain Apollo had built the same reputation. Lee didn't make mistakes. The difference, he mused, was that age had a way of teaching a man that he did make mistakes. William had learned over the years that he could screw up, and badly, and half of being a good Commander was deferring some decisions to the experts.  
  
It hadn't been an easy lesson. He'd gone against his technician's or engineer's advice more than once, and he'd paid for those mistakes with not only his pride, but with the lives of good men. That was part of the responsibility of command. There wasn't always a right answer, or even a best choice. He knew that every decision he made could have permanent and fatal consequences. It was something Lee had not yet learned. William couldn't fault him, as he'd been much the same temperament when he'd been that young.  
  
But it didn't make the words any easier to hear.  
  
William leaned forward and rested his head on his arms. He thought longingly of the bunk he'd had set up in his new office, but going that far simply seemed to be too much effort. He would just close his eyes for a moment. Just a moment.  
  
The buzz of the door made him want to scream. He could ignore it. He could order who ever it was to go away. He'd earned the right to a few moments shuteye.  
  
But it could be important. It might be the President, with more orders that he didn't necessarily want to follow but would have to carefully examine and negotiate prior to either implementing or ignoring them. It might be Tigh with another report on casualties, or possibly Tyrol or Qualla with news he'd been wanting on the status of their few remaining fighters.  
  
Whatever it was, it wasn't likely to go away just because he hadn't slept, really slept, in over ninety-six hours. The faster he dealt with it, the faster he could get to that bunk he so desperately needed.  
  
With a great deal of effort, he stood and walked the distance to the hatch - nearly eight feet. He supposed he could have simply called out, but standing up brought him closer to that cot. He lifted the lever to release the door and allowed it to swing open. Then he just stared.  
  
Lee stood there, looking very uncomfortable. While they had agreed to talk "later", William hadn't really expected to see his son for quite some time. Lee shifted his feet as he did when nervous, and for the first time in memory he wasn't meeting his father's eyes with accusation.  
  
"Commander?" Lee prompted, when all the elder man could do was stand there with his mouth hanging open.  
  
William pulled himself together and stepped back to usher his eldest son into the small office, the door swinging quietly closed behind them, latch falling quietly into place. There was little space in the room, and he had to back nearly into his desk to allow Lee the space he always demanded.  
  
Lee stepped in, glancing around at the office. "This is a step down, don't you think?" he asked quietly.  
  
It was that. But the luxurious living quarters he'd possessed had been large enough for two families to live comfortably, and his office was now set up as an isolation center for minor illnesses. The irritating viruses and bacteria that they had always lived with were dangerous in the overcrowded living conditions of the Galactica, and the sick had to go somewhere.  
  
"It serves my needs," he told his son simply. "I understand you've moved into our main pilot's quarters."  
  
Lee nodded. "I've never liked being in VIP quarters," he admitted. "I'd rather take a bunk with the rest of the squadron."  
  
"And the space was necessary."  
  
"Yes, it was."  
  
William nodded. He knew that his son, whatever his faults, was both practical and unselfish. It hadn't surprised him when the guest quarters had shown up on his manifest as an available space to relocate colonists. They had lost more than one ship to the FTL jump, either burning out engines that hadn't had adequate time to prepare, or using up fuel that they didn't have. It only made sense to consolidate ships to conserve resources. Of course, even that decision had it's own difficulties, such as overcrowding, but it was better than the alternative.  
  
Lee didn't appear inclined to continue the discussion, nor did he ever meet his father's eyes. Despite the single hug they had shared - a mutual acknowledgement that they were indeed family - the distance between them had not really changed since Lee's return.  
  
"I came to apologize," his son told him abruptly, eyes focused clearly over William's right shoulder. "It has come to my attention that someone else was responsible for promoting Zak."  
  
"I see," William answered. He wasn't sure what he should feel about that. Relief? Vindication?  
  
"But that's not what I'm apologizing for," Lee told him. "Kara passed him. I understand why she did it, and that she didn't mean it to happen that way."  
  
William nodded, not really understanding. Yes, he'd known that Kara was the one who had passed Zak in Basic Flight. He had known for over a year. He'd had his suspicions based on occasional slips on her part, and it hadn't been very hard to verify. Rank had its privileges, after all. But it hadn't been something he wanted Lee to know. The young man had needed to focus his anger somewhere, and it was better laid on an old man than a young woman who was already punishing herself enough.  
  
Lee took a deep breath, letting it out as a slow sigh before he finally met his father's eyes. "Can we sit down, please?"  
  
William gestured to his bunk, still neatly made after more than three days in the office. The only chair in the room was at his desk. He watched Lee sit, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor. He debated taking the chair, but decided to take a chance and sit next to his son instead.  
  
Lee was silent for a long moment. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I misjudged the situation, and I was horribly unfair to you." He looked up and met William's gaze head-on. "I had no right to say the things that I did. I had no right to," he took a breath, "believe the things I did." With that said, he looked away again. "I couldn't forgive you, so I certainly don't expect your forgiveness, but I needed you to know."  
  
William wanted to lay a hand on his son's shoulder, but he knew the gesture wouldn't be appreciated. Lee had never been terribly physically demonstrative. Ironically, he felt no anger towards his son. He felt no resentment or irritation at the fact that his son hadd not believed him for two years, that his son would instead choose to believe that he cared more about flight status than life. What he felt, he decided, was sadness. Sadness, and worry. If he could not forgive his father, what chance did a friend have?  
  
"I did want him to be a pilot," William offered. "You were right about that. I wanted him to be something I could understand, and relate to, and I wanted to be able to keep him close. I'd missed you both so much growing up, and I was hoping to get to know you as men. As a pilot, even on another vessel, we would have at least run into one another in the course of duty."  
  
"He wanted the same thing," Lee told him. "He even talked about trying to get stationed on the Galactica when he got through training."  
  
"That would have been," he swallowed heavily before continuing. "Been very nice."  
  
"Kara loved him," Lee said softly. "You could see it every time they looked at each other. She never would have intentionally put him in harms way."  
  
"I agree," William said.  
  
"You knew, didn't you?"  
  
William considered lying for a split second. The last thing he wanted was to face his son's wrath for a legitimate reason. But a warrior owned up to his actions. "I knew."  
  
"And you didn't say anything? Even when I said. he things I said."  
  
"Zak loved her," William explained. "We all do. With love, there's forgiveness."  
  
"But why didn't you tell me. One word, one explanation, and I could have understood."  
  
"Pride, I suppose," William explained. "Being told and believing are two separate things. You hadn't believed anything else I'd said, so I didn't see a reason to involve Kara on the off chance that you'd believe that. I wanted you to believe me because I was your father, not because I gave you a rational explanation."  
  
"Now I know where I get it," Lee said with the beginnings of a grin. William simply stared. He hadn't seen Lee smile in over two years. Always intense and serious, Zak's death had seemed to kill what little fun was in him. He had often reasoned that Lee would relax around those he was comfortable with, and acknowledged that he wasn't one of those people, but he'd never seen it.  
  
The comment so mirrored his earlier thoughts that William returned the smile tentatively. "I've seen some similarities."  
  
"You forgave Kara?" Lee asked.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"So did I. That's why I came to apologize."  
  
"I don't understand," William admitted. He didn't like the feeling any better than he ever had, but he was reluctantly getting used to feeling clueless where his family was concerned.  
  
There was another deep breath, and Lee's smile was gone. "I could forgive her without even thinking about it, but I couldn't do the same for you. She did exactly what I accused you of, used her position to put him where he shouldn't have been, but I can't hold it against her. I wish I could tell you exactly why that is, but I'm not sure I really understand it. I do know that it was wrong, though. You deserve better."  
  
"Lee, you were in so much pain," William offered. "When it happened, I don't think you could have forgiven anyone. You weren't ready."  
  
"Maybe," he admitted. "But it doesn't make it right."  
  
"Not everything is." Then, holding his breath, William reached out and patted his son's back. It was as close as he could come to what he wanted, a bone-cracking embrace like those he used to get from his boys when he came home on leave. He was satisfied when Lee didn't pull away.  
  
"Would you like to go down and get a drink?" Lee offered quickly, as though if he didn't say it quickly he might not be able to. "There's no alcohol in the officer's mess, but we could get something and maybe talk some more."  
  
William didn't have to consider ninety-six hours without sleep. He didn't have to consider fatigue, or his glasses being on his desk because he was so tired that he couldn't focus with them any better than without them. His son had offered to talk. His son had offered him a drink. "That sounds good," he told him. "I'm due for a break."  
  
Lee nodded and stood to open the hatch. William took a deep breath, controlling his emotions with the well-honed practice of a warrior, then followed his son into the hallway.  
  
(to be continued) 


	3. Beginnings

Chapter 3  
  
She was quiet for a moment, smiling, just enjoying the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers, and the gentle pressure of his body beside hers. That had lain this way dozens of times over the years, side by side on his bed or hers, and whether romantic or platonic it never ceased to amaze her the comfort she gained from the position. Zak had always made her feel safe.  
  
She rolled onto her side to face him, to tell him how special this was. The bed was empty.  
  
Kara awoke with a start, kicking away blankets to escape the nightmare before realizing that it was real. Zak was gone. He had been gone for a long time.  
  
She took a deep breath and held it, then let it out slowly in a quiet, controlled motion that both calmed her and allowed her to listen to see if she had awakened anyone in the quarters. She didn't hear anything aside from the usual soft snores and shifting of blankets that were expected in a room of twenty sleeping men and women. She took another breath, and this time let it out in relief.  
  
The Galactica had been a flagship for the Planet Caprica. Due to this, the environmental controls were set to simulate the twenty-six hour days of that planet. Lights in corridors dimmed, temperatures were lowered, and a simulated night helped to keep its occupants on some semblance of a schedule.  
  
The current time was just after two in the morning. She didn't want to wake those sleeping around her. They got enough of that from the recurrent nightmares that each of them faced as a result of the destruction of their home world. Three or four times a night, someone awoke crying, screaming, or flailing. It was tolerated, and they could all sympathize, but it wasn't something she wanted to be known for.  
  
In any case, Kara had demons that were far older than the beginning of the war. Inner demons beat out external demons any day for the initiation of nightmares. She'd been coping with them for two years. If she felt like her chest was too tight to breathe and the walls were closing in around her, then she would just have to cope.  
  
Quietly, she eased herself from the bed and tugged a sleeveless shirt over her undershirt. She grabbed some shorts as well and slipped them on. She wasn't concerned with anyone watching. Even with the lights on, and no clothes at all, she had learned to be comfortable with co-ed living conditions in warrior's quarters. Just a few showers during initial Flight Training had broken her of the little shyness that had survived growing up with two boys who had never really considered her a girl.  
  
Kara picked up running shoes from the rack above her shared locker, and exited the pilot's quarters as quietly as a shadow, easing the hatch shut behind her. The passageway was dimly lit, another concession to environmental regulation, but it was bright enough to see clearly and the corridor was essentially empty for a change.  
  
Kara did a couple of quick stretches using the wall for support, then eased into a quiet jog. She didn't have the patience for an extended warm up, and she'd learned over the years that night demons were best exorcised by, well, exercise. She was anxious to clear her mind.  
  
She had made three laps of the main passageway, each about half a mile in length. She was just building up a good sweat and beginning to breathe heavily when she nearly collided with Lee.  
  
"Hey!" she said breathily.  
  
"Hi," he answered. "You're up late. Or, is it early?"  
  
"Couldn't sleep," she admitted. "What about you? I thought you must be on patrol." She knew that she didn't have a shift until late tomorrow - make that today - so she hadn't really looked at anything else on the current roster.  
  
"I was actually talking to my dad," he told her sheepishly. "We had some. catching up to do."  
  
She smiled softly, glad that her great confession had been good for something besides reawakening her own guilt and interrupting her sleep. "That's good to hear."  
  
"It explains how I managed to stay out past curfew," he said with a shrug. "But you're going to get yourself locked in the brig again."  
  
She grinned at that. "At least it would be some space. It's gotten damn crowded in quarters."  
  
"Thanks," he said dryly. "Nice to know how welcome I am."  
  
"You are, but I'm not so sure about the other fifteen bunks they put in there. We can barely walk, and I hate sharing a locker."  
  
"They had to go somewhere," Lee reasoned. "And space is limited. We should really be glad that we have so many surviving pilots after our initial run-in with the Cylons."  
  
She sighed. "It's nice not having to pull long shifts. For a change we actually have more pilots than we have spacecraft for."  
  
"Chief Tyrol is working on that. Another week or so and he's likely to have enough of a fleet together to actually provide adequate defense. We may need that sooner than we think."  
  
"You really think they'll find us?"  
  
Lee took a moment to consider that. "Eventually," he admitted. "Or at least, we're better to expect that they will. Complacency is what got us into this in the first place."  
  
Kara nodded her agreement. "So for now we get to enjoy routine patrols and seven-hour shifts. Although I'd just as soon get into some of the exploratory missions, instead of routine scanning. It would last longer."  
  
"We do have way too much free time," he added. "Discipline is going to become a problem if we don't keep our warriors busy."  
  
"I resemble that," she told him with a grin.  
  
"You'd find a way to get into trouble regardless of down time," Lee admitted as he casually elbowed her in the ribs. They'd gradually started a quiet walk around the main corridor to allow Kara time to cool down.  
  
"Life is never dull," she admitted with a wry grin.  
  
"You could be a Captain by now," he told her honestly. "The skill is there, and the leadership capability. If you hadn't been bucked down so many times for getting yourself into fights, you'd be senior ranking by now."  
  
"Better than drunk and disorderly," she argued.  
  
"So you're sober and disorderly. Better to stay out of trouble," he instructed. "We have enough issues out of our control without deliberately locking up our best pilots."  
  
"Thanks," she told him softly. His matter-of-fact statement that she was good meant a lot more than the affluent praise from others. Lee was the standard she measured herself by. He always had been.  
  
He shrugged again. "It's nothing you don't know. Besides, I should be the one thanking you."  
  
"For what? Defying your orders to stay out of trouble?"  
  
"For saving my butt out there," he corrected, coming to a stop so that she had to either face him or leave him behind. "And yeah, it was against my orders."  
  
"Your problem was damage, not skill," she told him, ignoring the implied accusation. "Besides, you would have done the same for me."  
  
He looked at her for a moment, his gaze direct and penetrating to the point that she had to look away. "No, I probably wouldn't have."  
  
Kara was stunned. Shocked. Hurt.  
  
"Not that I wouldn't have done anything to get you back to the ship," he said quickly, probably responding to the look on her face because he reached out a hand to clasp her upper arm. "I just don't think that far outside the box."  
  
"I think you're underestimating yourself," she corrected.  
  
"No. I'm not."  
  
"When have you ever failed on a mission?" she asked him with irritation. How anyone who was so arrogant could give himself so little credit was beyond her.  
  
"When I couldn't talk Zak out of being a pilot," he admitted quietly. "If I had stopped yelling, maybe thought of something else."  
  
"We're not going to start with blaming you," Kara told him firmly. "We have already established who put him in that Viper before he was ready."  
  
"He was my brother," he reminded her. "I knew just as well as you did that he wasn't ready, but protocol stated that he had to solo, and I didn't even take time to be there. He actually held it together until the landing. If I could have kept him calm."  
  
"He panicked because he was someplace he shouldn't have been, Lee. I was there. I tried to talk him through it, but... I knew his judgement on landings, his depth perception wasn't practiced enough. I really had planned to work with him, though. Maybe do some ground landings before we started working flight deck."  
  
"That's procedure for Raptor training," he said. "Not for Viper flight."  
  
"Raptor training is where he should have been."  
  
Lee didn't answer that. She knew he didn't have to. The scuttlebutt in flight school was that only the lowest of the low were relegated to Raptor flight. It was considered demeaning at best, and something a warrior did only under the most extreme circumstances. Warriors flew Vipers. Runts flew Raptors. Raptors were the curse of those who couldn't pass Basic Flight. They were slower, and they had far more safeguards to assist the pilot, some even boasting automatic features.  
  
Quietly Kara turned and began walking again. Lee fell into step beside her. There were no words necessary. They were both feeling their guilt, each for their own reasons, and words wouldn't make it better.  
  
Both Lee and Kara had left the Flight Training program shortly after Zak's death. Lee had done it to spite his father, deliberately turning down an opening on the Galactica to stay clear of his father. Kara had done the opposite, joining the ship's company so that she could stay close to the only family she had ever known. She had often thought that if William Adama hadn't offered her the slot, she might have wound up driving a truck on Caprica. But, he had made her fly. He had saved her life.  
  
She had missed Lee, though. They'd gone through school together on Caprica, graduated the same year, and joined Flight School at the same time. They had even roomed together before Zak had started training, then she'd moved in with him, superior rank be damned. Even so, Lee had been present most days at work, and he'd been there to keep her out of trouble each time that a male of the species decided she was somehow less fit to fly because of her gender. It had happened frequently when she was teaching. Most of the crew here knew she had earned her status, and she had some semblance of respect from them.  
  
Zak had thought it was funny, never really understanding why the insinuations had bothered her when she really was good, but Lee had taken it as personally as she did. She couldn't stand being the butt of someone's joke. She'd taken enough of that as a child when her parents had left her.  
  
She had no clue when her mother had left. She didn't remember her at all, but she'd been four or five when she woke up one morning to find the room she and her father had occupied empty and no sign that he had ever been there. She'd looked around for him at first, but with a child's resiliency she'd quickly learned to fend for herself. She didn't really remember him now, although certain smells or sounds would occasionally spark a mottled memory of being cold, or of voices yelling. Lee had once told her that the memories probably weren't good, so she was better off without them. She liked to think the same thing.  
  
Despite her self-reliance, life had been hard at first. Only a few months after finding herself on the streets of Caprica, and despite early lessons learned about charming tourists and scamming cash, she'd gotten caught stealing food from behind a military mess facility. It was amazing the food that soldiers left behind. Thankfully, the officer that had grabbed her by the seat of her torn pants had been William Adama, then a Captain serving an unwanted tour of planetary duty.  
  
She had found herself tossed in a tub, dressed in clean clothes, and seated at a table with more food on it than she had ever seen. William hadn't ever asked any questions that she couldn't answer. He had simply fed her, clothed her, and left her in the loving care of his wife.  
  
Iilya had been a beautiful woman who very much loved to nurture. Zak had reveled in the loving attention, Kara had tolerated the fussing, and Lee had brushed it off. He had been independent and solitary. Kara had always wanted to be like him. She hadn't wanted to need anyone, knowing all too well how easily she could find herself alone.  
  
Kara assumed that the Adamas had looked for her father, but she never asked. She had simply been grateful for friends to play with, a warm bed, and food to eat. She had started school that year with Lee, and essentially had become a part of their family. She was still called "the orphan" at school - still teased and tormented because she had no parents of her own - but at least she'd had a place where she was safe and cared for. She'd never called them Mom or Dad, but the emotion was there even when the words weren't. They took care of her, loved her, and even bandaged the multitude of injuries she acquired as she defended her own honor.  
  
In her final years of school, Lee had kept himself busy and was rarely around. She had stuck with Zak then, and the two had gradually gone from a sibling type relationship to something else entirely. William and Iilya had both encouraged their togetherness, and Lee had mostly ignored it until they had announced their engagement.  
  
She hadn't really been close to Lee again until they'd gone to flight school. They had challenged one another there, each pushing one another to do more, be more, and fly better. They had both passed Basic Flight and moved into Viper Training within the first months, a feat that hadn't been accomplished by more than a handfull of trainees. They had completed that in record time as well, and showed a natural flare for flying that had only been shown by a few students in the history of the center. It was only natural that they had been asked to teach, to share the instinctual knowledge of how to fly. She had actually liked the respect and responsibility at the time. Later, she came to hate it.  
  
Now, Kara and Lee passed a few security monitors on their walk, but no one really questioned the commander's son regarding curfew, and Kara was able to enjoy the peacefulness of silent companionship and undemanding company. She still wasn't entirely comfortable with Lee following her two-year deception, but she was getting there.  
  
"When's your next shift?" he finally asked after nearly half an hour of walking. She guessed that he'd had a lot of thinking to do as well.  
  
"Eighteen-hundred," she replied.  
  
He nodded. "I'm up at twelve," he told her. "I'd better at least try to get some sleep."  
  
"I'm getting a little tired, too. And cold." Lee was in full flight dress, so he was probably comfortable, but Kara's shorts were only appropriate when she was generating significant heat of her own.  
  
They walked back to their quarters, entering quietly. Lee yanked off his flight jacket to leave it in his locker even as Kara pulled her sleeveless shirt off and stripped off her shorts, revealing only a pair of nondescript white underwear and a simple running bra.  
  
"I'm going to grab a shower," she told him simply.  
  
Lee paused in the act of reaching for his soap and looked at her for a long moment. "I'll just head to bed," he told her, not meeting her eyes as he withdrew his hand from the locker. "See you in the morning."  
  
"You too," Kara told him as she moved towards the showers.  
  
Lee stood there for a moment, watching her back, then finished getting ready for bed.  
  
(to be continued) 


	4. Adventures

Chapter 4  
  
Lee Adama settled himself into the cockpit and slipped his helmet into place. He went mindlessly through the pre-flight check, having done it so many times that he didn't need the clipboard that he used to rely on. The only other pilot he might trust to pre-check by rote would be Starbuck. He smiled softly as he realized that she could do it, and probably in a quarter the time it took him.  
  
Okay, so he was methodical. Some might call it compulsive. Kara just said he was damned picky.  
  
He liked to do things right the first time. What was the old Caprican saying? There was never time to do things right the first time, but always time to fix what you messed up by rushing the first time. He preferred to just get it done. If that had earned him a reputation as a hard-ass, then he'd deal with it. He had dealt with more than that as the Commander's son.  
  
With pre-flight complete, he checked in with the Launch officer, and then waited patiently for control to be transferred to his Viper. This was always the most tense part of the routine long patrol: waiting for launch.  
  
His wait was slightly excessive this time around. After more than ten minutes without transmission, he checked in with flight.  
  
"We read you, Captain Apollo," came the clearly annunciated, and clearly feminine voice of his flight control officer. "Our apologies for the delay. We have some personnel changes on the roster. Continue holding, and you will be cleared as soon as your wingman is available for launch."  
  
He considered that the run around, and tried again. "Control, is there a problem?"  
  
"No further information is available at this time."  
  
He rolled his eyes and began tapping one foot in agitation. No information his butt! They knew exactly what was going on, but they weren't in the mood to share.  
  
Moments later, he received word that his wingman was in place. Apparently that had been the issue, although he couldn't figure out what the big deal was about getting Jolly into his Viper. Even if it weren't Jolly, several pilots were always sitting in quarters waiting for something - anything - to do. Surely it couldn't take twenty minutes to get someone flight ready.  
  
Unless, of course, they were having difficulty finding someone willing to fly with the Commander's son.  
  
Initially, he'd thought moving back into Squadron quarters was a good idea. He didn't like VIP treatment, and he'd missed the camaraderie that he'd enjoyed when he'd just been one of the guys. But he'd never been stationed on his father's ship before, and certainly not when the great Commander was effectively running the entire fleet. It seemed to have given him some sort of elevated status that, combined with his rank and history, had made him more than a little unapproachable.  
  
The younger pilots seemed downright scared of him. The older, more experienced ones were wary, as though he were a spy in their midst. About the only few people still talking to him, at least among the pilots, were Kara, Sharon, and a couple of others that had been in flight school with him way back when.  
  
The humor of it was that if anyone should be wary of him, it should be Sharon. He had been the instructor to buck her down from Viper class to Raptors. It hadn't been that he didn't like her, but just the opposite. She'd been a decent pilot, but she didn't move or think terribly quickly under pressure. In a Raptor, you had a little longer to figure things out. In a Viper, you had to react almost before you thought, or you were dead. She was an excellent pilot - she just didn't belong in a Viper.  
  
She had resented the decision when he'd made it. She had even appealed above him, and been denied. But since the war had started, and she'd found out just what could be expected of a pilot, she seemed more than content to pilot Raptors. The irony of it was that she had improved enough that he'd easily recommend her for Vipers now, and he'd told her as much the week before. She'd laughed at him, saying that he'd had it right the first time. In any case, she seemed comfortable enough with him now, and she wasn't one of the ones that bobbed to attention every time he walked into the room.  
  
Kara had never, and likely would never, be impressed by him. That was a good thing. It was nice having an equal, whatever her rank might be. He hadn't been kidding when he'd said she should have made Captain, and probably before he had. She could fly circles around him if she was given the chance.  
  
"Viper one-nine, clear forward."  
  
The disembodied voice finally gave him the permission he'd been waiting for, and he quickly went through the final mental checklist before talking a deep breath, bracing his head against the pad, and waiting for the final clear to launch.  
  
"Viper nav-con green, interval check, thrust positive and steady. Good- bye."  
  
Apollo touched a button on his joystick, and the launch tube flashed by in a strobe of white lights. His eyes were focused clearly on the black dot at the end of the tube. He released the breath he'd been holding since launch, relaxing as he exited the Galactica and shot towards open space. He felt his body relax as it only did when he was out here, flying among the stars, in total control of his own destiny.  
  
He glanced over his right shoulder in time to see a second white flash exit the Galactica's launch tube, and wondered briefly who he was flying with. It was supposed to be Jolly, but something must have happened to cause the delay. Once he would have worried, but over the years he'd flown with the best and the very worst, and he knew that he could keep the team together whichever way it went.  
  
"Viper one-nine to Viper one-seven," he said clearly into the mouthpiece of his helmet. "Who am I flying with today?"  
  
"Three guesses," came back in a pleasant voice that put a smile on his face. "But you'll only need one."  
  
"Starbuck!" he said, both surprised and pleased. He resorted to the call signs naturally, without conscious thought. He knew she would do the same. "I thought we were on opposite shifts this week."  
  
"We were, but Jolly's down with a fever. They asked for a last minute volunteer, and I couldn't think of anything better to do than get out of that place for a couple of days."  
  
"I understand," he told her with feeling, and also with an unconscious measure of relief. He had flown with the worst that the Galactica had to offer in the way of pilots, but that didn't mean he liked it. Knowing that he was flying with the one pilot that could keep him in his place was downright refreshing.  
  
"So, what's the drill?" she asked quickly. "Tigh didn't get a chance to brief me."  
  
Apollo ignored the less than respectful reference to their Executive Officer. He understood her dislike for the man, and wouldn't call her on it, but that didn't mean that the bridge crew needed to be privy to the fact that she didn't call him by rank. "Change to blue frequency," he commanded, flipping from the more commonly used flight channel to a frequency that was concealed to all but the immediate flight team.  
  
"Frequency clear," she reported. "What's the big secret?"  
  
"No secret, really," Apollo said with a smile. "I just want to leave them guessing." He smiled as he heard her soft laugh fed directly into his right ear. His left continued to monitor flight instructions and redirections from the Galactica, but that would soon be shut down and they would be on their own. "Honestly, though," he said, getting back to business. "This is a standard look-and-see. We've located a habitable planet that the Galactica will be in range of within the next week, and we're to inspect for feasibility, fuel, water, and food. No life signs noted, but we're also scanning for any Cylon presence, whatever that may look like. Lords know where they might have spread to."  
  
"Why not send the Raptors? That's what they're designed for, and they could do it FTL."  
  
"Inadequate armament," he replied. "What we're looking for is in range, and may be useful either for supplies or habitation, depending on what we find. But a Raptor assignment would be more likely to raise eyebrows than a Viper long-patrol."  
  
"Ah," she sent back, her voice showing no surprise. "So we don't want to get the little kiddies hopes up until we know what we're passing by."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Makes sense," she told him. "How far out are we heading?"  
  
"Kicked in, it'll take us about two hours, then we'll have at least seventy- two to make a preliminary scan before the fleet gets close. Some of those ships are barely crawling now, and will be until we can get repairs complete and refuel. Between here and there, we won't have much contact. We don't want to leave wireless trails back to the Galactica."  
  
"Got it. Short range only."  
  
"For now, settle in and set course to point four three, and kick in the turbo on my mark."  
  
"Course set," Starbuck said with a smile in her voice. He knew she loved to fly. "Let's go."  
  
"Three, two, one. mark."  
  
As one, both Vipers lurched forward on identical headings, their pilots completely in tune with one another. No other words were necessary.  
  
"Flight Captain to wingman," Apollo said in a gravelly voice, compliments of hours of silence and the high-oxygen environment in the cockpit. "Ready to get this done?"  
  
"Willing and able," Starbuck replied. "Your mark?"  
  
"Slow on mark, three, two, one."  
  
"Mark," they said together, their turbo wash dropping from a blinding flare to a gentle flame.  
  
The Vipers slowed as one, descending towards the planet like twin arcs of light.  
  
"Atmosphere acceptable," Starbuck reported, consulting the environmental computer as soon as they were into the atmosphere. "A little high on the oxygen, though. We may be a bit dizzy, but we won't need the breathers."  
  
"Combustibility?" Apollo asked.  
  
"Slight risk, but not high," she reported.  
  
Apollo nodded, then remembered that she couldn't see him. "Check."  
  
"See anyplace you want to land?"  
  
He checked over his computer displays before glancing through the cockpit window and verifying the mechanical report. "Change heading to three-delta- seven. About thirty miles further."  
  
"Check."  
  
They cut speed together, following standard procedure for a surface landing. Everything was going exactly by the book. Apollo started to get nervous. Nothing ever went "by the book".  
  
An audible explosion confirmed the first rule of Planetary Exploration: if it can go wrong, it will.  
  
"I've got a problem, Apollo," Starbuck said quickly, but with no real fear in her voice. She could coast it in from here if she needed to, and had before. Assuming she kept her head, and her wings.  
  
"Report," he prompted.  
  
"I've lost left lower thruster," she said. "But that's not the problem."  
  
"Well, that's not good," he retorted.  
  
"Remember me getting that high O-2 reading?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Well, blowing this fire out is going to be something."  
  
"Set down," Apollo said firmly. "Here, now."  
  
"But."  
  
"Now," he reiterated. "Once you get it down, we can do something about the fire before you get toasted."  
  
"Right."  
  
Apollo pulled up, swinging back around from where he'd been in the lead so he could see the extent of the damage. She had indeed lost one engine, but the other two were in immediate danger as well. Flames were shooting from the entire lower left quadrant of the Viper, and smoke was very obviously filling the cockpit.  
  
"Can you see anything?" he asked her anxiously.  
  
"I. maybe. feel."  
  
Her speech was broken by coughing, but he got his answer. If she couldn't speak, it wasn't likely that she could see her instruments. "Listen to me, and do exactly as I say. Cut power now."  
  
She didn't reply, but the Viper immediately slowed as Apollo slid in beside her, matching speed and altitude. He concentrated on his actions, describing where his hands were, where his controls were. He went through each and every step by the inch, in enough detail that a blind man could land the Viper. In this case, a blind woman. It wasn't really hard. He knew that each of them had logged more hours in the Viper than it took to memorize her controls.  
  
It was a tense five minutes before he could get them both on the ground, shut down systems, and pop the canopy on his own Viper. He jumped out and slid to the ground, landing at a run towards Starbuck's damaged Viper.  
  
The canopy was just lifting as he reached it, and one jump took him up to the wing, where he could balance and force the canopy the rest of the way. He reached in, grabbing its pilot by the arm as she coughed deeply and struggled to catch her breath. He pulled her body up, surprised at how light she really was compared to the men he'd hefted in rescue training simulations, and tucked her under one arm so that he could jump down. He held her up as she tried to walk, got her to a safe distance from the flames, and then went to his own Viper for a fire retardant. He wasn't trusting that what was in Starbuck's Viper would be intact, and was not willing to waste time looking.  
  
By the time he had the flames under control, the coughing and retching that he'd been only half aware of had stopped. He double-checked the hot areas, applied more of the retardant, and then went to check on Starbuck.  
  
"Are you burned?" he asked anxiously, dusting ash from her uniform and checking for damage to her clothing and pressure suit.  
  
"I'm." The coughing began again, followed by another bought of retching, so he continued his inspection of her with efficient hands and little assistance. When he unzipped her flight suit to check for any blisters, she pushed at his hands ineffectually.  
  
"The suit is hot, Kara. I need to see if you're burned."  
  
"Not," she coughed out.  
  
"You don't know that," he corrected. "You have so much adrenaline in your system that you wouldn't feel anything less than an amputation, and probably not that."  
  
"I can check," she told him, and he was pleased to hear that at least she could get a few words out, now.  
  
"It's your back I'm worried about! Don't get shy on me now, Kara. I've seen it all before."  
  
The words seemed to stun her so that she at least stopped fighting him. He finished unzipping the suit and tugged it off to the waist. He followed procedure with the pressure suit as well, peeling it down her arms and taking a close look at her back. There were a few pink areas, and one that was blotchy red, but nothing he could see beyond a simple first-degree heat burn. The suits were designed to isolate the pilot from heat and flame, and for the most part it had done its job.  
  
"Nothing permanent," Lee reported, holding the waist of her suit away from her body so he could check her upper buttocks. "But you're gonna have some sore spots by morning."  
  
"Fine," she told him quickly, grasping her pressure suit and starting to tug it back on.  
  
"Wait," he said simply. "You may as well strip of the PS now. You'll be more comfortable in just the flight suit, and the pressure suit might seal in the burns to make them worse."  
  
"Fine," she said, exasperation in her voice. "I'll change, just. go somewhere else."  
  
Lee rolled his eyes. He'd thought they were past the male-female issues that sometimes arose on deep probe. Neither was ignorant of the opposite gender, and they'd changed in front of one another more than once in the past. Not wanting to press the issue, and remembering his own discomfort as they got ready to shower several days before, he stood up and went to inspect their surroundings and check out the damage that had been done to her viper.  
  
It wasn't as bad as it could have been. The fire had finally been contained, and the two functional engines were protected. The flames had not ignited the tylium that fueled the Vipers, so theoretically they should be able to get it airborne. Theoretically, because they didn't know what had caused the explosion in the first place, so he had no way of predicting if it would recur.  
  
He took a step back from the Viper and looked around. They had set down, by necessity, probably twenty miles from where he had planned. The preferred site had water, natural cover, and a high enough vantage point to defend it if necessary. This was a lower elevation, both flat and dry. The sky had been disturbed by the Viper passage, and the temperature of their afterburners made rain from the dense clouds rather likely. It wasn't ideal to leave the Vipers here, and yet until they could get a good look inside Starbuck's Viper they didn't dare try to move it.  
  
He turned around to face Kara, finding her back to him as she finished sipping herself into her flight suit, pressure suit over her arm. He would have to do the same thing before they did much more. The suit designed for the vacuum of space was making him sweat like crazy in the planet's warmth.  
  
"How do you feel?" he asked as he approached her and reached for the suit. She passed it to him, and shifted her shoulders around experimentally.  
  
"Like I fell asleep in the sun," she admitted. "But it beats the hell out of being cooked alive." She took a deep breath, met Lee's eyes, and softly told him. "Thanks. I couldn't see a thing, instruments or otherwise."  
  
"You would have done the same for me," he replied gently, patting her gently on one arm, rather than on her sore back. "And you have."  
  
She nodded at that, then looked around. "I messed up the game plan."  
  
He shrugged. "We can work with it. But we really need to find out what happened to that engine."  
  
"Could be anything," she admitted. "Tyrol has been plugging Vipers together from scraps since the war started. Could be a bad capacitor, a fuse, or just about anything. They've also been bypassing some of the safeties to keep them flying when they didn't have the parts they needed."  
  
Lee nodded. "And we aren't likely to figure it out before those clouds cut loose," he reminded her. "We need some cover."  
  
"I'll start putting up the emergency shelter," she told him. "Why don't you get the food and testing supplies out of the Vipers, and when the rain's over one of us can start the preliminary survey from here while the other works on my Viper."  
  
"Who's in command here?" he asked with a smile.  
  
"Oh, sorry," she said, and actually looked sheepish. "I'm not used to working with someone who knows his head from his ass. What's your orders?"  
  
Lee looked at her and broadened his grin to a true smile. "Set up the shelter," he told her. "I'll start digging out supplies."  
  
Kara nodded, and they went to work. 


	5. Collapse

Chapter 5  
  
Kara Thrace looked around her and wondered now her life had come to this - sitting alone in a three by six-foot shelter when the sky looked more like rain every minute.  
  
The fire that had blown out her engine had taken her supplies as well. In general, it wasn't a terribly big issue. They always packed more than necessary into the survival packs that the long-range Vipers carried, so it wasn't like they were going to starve eating only Lee's supplies. It also wasn't as though she hadn't shared space with others on many occasions. During training, this would be generous space for three warriors, and they would just have to deal with it.  
  
No, what bothered Kara about the situation was that she was effectively grounded, awaiting rescue like one of those helpless maidens in a child's story. Kara did not like being out of control of her own destiny. She liked even less that there was nothing she could do about it.  
  
Lee had taken his Viper to the originally planned landing site to check on water quality and natural foliage. He had also planned to scout out Tylium deposits in hope of finding fuel for the fleet. Their scanners had picked up nothing in the way of life forms, with the exception of sparse vegetation, so there was no need to be concerned about Kara's safety. His leaving while she set up a shelter and did her best to patch together her own viper was simply common sense.  
  
But she hated it.  
  
It had taken her only minutes to set up the shelter. She had spent more than an hour working on the engine, and wasn't happy with what she'd found. Aside from the cause of the explosion being beyond her scope, she was also faced with the damage that the fire had done to the interior of her Viper. There had been melting of some necessary structures, and even patched she wouldn't trust it outside a planetary atmosphere. Again, nothing tragic. Once the Galactica was back within range, Lee would head up and send back a crew to collect her and the Viper. Very routine, actually, even if the explosion hadn't been.  
  
But she hated it.  
  
Here she sat, dry inside the shelter, as the rain started in earnest. The temperature had dropped significantly, but she was still too sore to put her pressure suit back on for the warmth. Instead, she'd tugged out a survival cover to keep herself warm as she sat there - just sat there - and waited for Lee to get back.  
  
This was pathetic.  
  
Just as she was edging into another bout of self-pity, she heard the roar of Lee's engines and looked out the flap of the shelter to see his smooth descent. Just great. She should really be the stereotypical female and have the meal waiting on him as well. She'd sooner fly her own damaged Viper into the nearest black hole. She'd be damned if she'd be a stereotype.  
  
"Wet!" Lee announced unnecessarily as he slid into the shelter, shaking off water as he did so. Great. Now they were both wet.  
  
"Easy on that," she complained, handing him a towel to dry off. He did so quickly, then tugged off the upper half of his flight suit to dry off his chest and arms. He elbowed her once or twice in the process, compliments of confined quarters, but otherwise didn't respond.  
  
"You're a grump," he finally informed her. "I take it the repairs didn't go well."  
  
"Nothing I'd trust outside the atmosphere," she admitted in defeat. "I'm effectively grounded."  
  
"I would have grounded you anyway," he said simply. "The seal on your helmet is faulty, or you wouldn't have gotten a face full of smoke.  
  
She nodded at that. "I rapped it on the side of the cockpit during the explosion. Dented it almost as much as my thick skull."  
  
"You hit your head?" he said in alarm, immediately coming up on his knees and reaching over to feel around in her hair, apparently looking for lumps or bumps.  
  
"I'm fine," she told him, pulling back from his touch and backing into the shelter side in the process. "I didn't black out, no dizziness, and it doesn't hurt now. The helmet took the brunt of it. That's why the seal's broke."  
  
He sighed and reluctantly eased back to rest on his legs. "It doesn't hurt to check. I don't want you getting sick on me."  
  
"I'm fine. So quit treating me like a cadet and tell me what you found out."  
  
He took a deep breath, letting it out in another sigh. "High acid content in both the soil and the water. It explains the lack of vegetation, anyway. The plants are no less than poison. We can probably use the water, if we treat it first to bring down the acidity, but colonization is out of the question."  
  
"Frak," she told him simply.  
  
"That's about it," he concluded.  
  
"Well, when you find a planet free of habitation, chances are there's a good reason. That's why we were sent ahead."  
  
"I know, but I was hoping."  
  
She looked at him for a moment, confused. "You planning to settle down?" she asked with a grin.  
  
"No, but a lot of people would like to, and I'd like to get some of the civilians off the Galactica. It's a fighting ship, not a housing complex."  
  
"It is a little crowded."  
  
He didn't comment to that, just looked out the shelter opening into the pouring rain. "I take it your supplies weren't salvageable."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So are you going to share my food, or what?"  
  
She grinned at that. "I wasn't hungry. It's still in the pack."  
  
He looked around until he spotted the survival pack and dug around inside until he found the nutritional pouches. It took him only a few moments to rip open the packaging and devour the food. She supposed it had been a long day.  
  
"So, you'll fly back at first light?"  
  
He shook his head. "Depends on the weather. I have the cockpit sealed, but I'd rather not fly from here to the Galactica wet. If we get short on time or supplies I can, but otherwise we're better off to stay here until it's clear."  
  
She nodded. "Sounds good. Well, not good, but as good a plan as we can come up with out of this mess."  
  
"You're taking this too personally," he told her. "It could just have easily been my Viper that blew. It's one reason we always double-up on probes. Well, that and the Cylons."  
  
She nodded, but didn't speak again. Lee finished a second package of food, then dug in the bag some more for the first-aid kit. He held up the tube of ointment that he had used on her back before he'd left to check out the planet, and she wordlessly turned around and dropped the top half of her flight suit. He applied the medication with a minimum of fuss, told her it was looking better, and then settled in to sleep.  
  
It took Kara a long time to settle in and get comfortable. It had been a while since she'd shared space during sleeping, and while there was familiarity in the quiet breathing solid warmth at her back, her mind just couldn't stop wishing that it was Zak.  
  
She turned and struggled as usual in the dream, trying to get out of it. While Kara knew it wasn't real, couldn't be happening, a part of her mind knew that it had happened. The bodies of friends floated through space, her home world exploded, Zak looked up at her from a coffin, and children stood around her laughing. It was as though every bad thing that had ever happened was happening at once. She knew it wasn't real, but getting away was impossible. She finally focused in on the one thing that was strong enough to push out the others. Zak. She had failed him. She had killed him. It was all her fault.  
  
She awoke not to a quiet quarters and tangled blankets, but to a gentle whisper and strong, warm arms. She was disoriented for a moment, so she just held on to the words, the voice.  
  
"It's okay, Kara. It's a dream. It's not real. It's just a dream."  
  
Lee repeated the words over and over, his arms wrapped solidly around her. She wanted to pull away from him, but there was something so familiar in his solid chest against her face and his strong arms around her that she just couldn't let go.  
  
She held on, taking gulping breaths, not quite able to shake the dream. It was real, or it had been. It had been her fault. "I passed him," she explained in a sob, needing to do something to get the pressure out of her chest and hoping the words would do it. "It's my fault. It's all my fault."  
  
"It was an accident," Lee told her softly. "You didn't mean it. I know you didn't mean it."  
  
The soft kiss she felt on the top of her head was her undoing. She had held herself together for two years, and she just couldn't do it anymore. Here, in the muffled silence of a rainy night, in the arms of the man that should have been her brother, she cried.  
  
She didn't know how long she cried. She knew it was long enough that her throat was sore and her chest ached. She knew it was long enough that she ran out of tears, leaving nothing but dry sobs that shook her to her soul. She knew that it was long enough for the sun to begin to come up, and for the rain to ease, but not stop. She knew it was long enough to scour her out, but not long enough to heal her.  
  
It was long enough for her to be thoroughly embarrassed about her actions.  
  
Finally, as she became still, able to think again if not quite able to feel, she was once more aware of the strong arms around her and the warmth she rested against. She became aware that she had just lost all composure, all professionalism, in the arms of the man she respected above most others in the world. She became aware of just how weak she was, and how ashamed she should be.  
  
She pushed back from Lee, with absolutely no clue what she could say to fix this. She didn't know what words could explain what had just happened, or if her voice would even work to form words. She knew she had to do something, say something, to fix this. She couldn't lose this friendship that she had depended on for so many years. He was all she really had left of her childhood, at least all she was willing to admit to.  
  
Pushing back against his embrace, she peeked up to face him. She figured that the faster she did this, the sooner it would be over. She took a deep breath, and opened her eyes to meet his.  
  
But his eyes weren't open. Words were knocked from her chest as she took in the sight of Lee just as torn apart as she was. Tears flowed freely from closed eyes, his jaw held tightly to keep his silence. She looked for a moment more, half-sure that she must still be dreaming, because Lee never cried. Never.  
  
Finally, she slid her arms around him and held him as tightly as he was holding her, sharing something that only the two of them really understood: saying goodbye to Zak.  
  
Kara awoke with puffy eyes and a sore throat, but at least the rain had stopped. She didn't know when she had fallen asleep, but she was glad to see that Lee had done so, too. He was still sleeping, for that matter, looking peaceful and younger than he had in years.  
  
She should have been uncomfortable in his arms. She knew that. She'd never really let anyone hold her, except maybe Zak when she'd been feeling particularly generous. It hadn't been anything against Zak, but rather vague discomfort that she never could place. Maybe it was from a memory, or even a nightmare, but she just didn't like to feel closed in. She had hugged William Adama and his wife dozens of times over the years, but she never stayed in the embrace. It just wasn't her. It was all she could do to tolerate the confines of her own Viper until they managed to launch her, allowing the openness of space to ease the claustrophobia.  
  
But here she was in Lee's arms, just as comfortable as if she were back in her quarters, in her own bunk. It didn't make sense to her. She didn't know if it ever would.  
  
Lee muttered slightly as she eased herself away and sat up near the opening to the shelter, but he didn't wake up. A quick peak outside showed a steady downpour of rain that obscured her view of the Vipers and the surrounding terrain. If he did as he said, Lee wouldn't be going anywhere today.  
  
She looked back at him to be sure she hadn't disturbed him with her motion, undeniably grateful that they hadn't woken up together, face to face, with more questions than answers between them. He'd been there for her, yes, and she hoped he felt that she'd been there for him. But it didn't change who they were, or what was between them. She loved Lee, but there was nothing romantic about it, and never had been. She was pretty confident that he felt the same way.  
  
That didn't mean that she was immune to him. He was a very good-looking man, although he resembled his father far more than Zak had. His demeanor was also unlike Zak, in that he wasn't the type to goof off or joke around. He had a sense of humor, but it was subtle and sarcastic. He wasn't the type to screw around just to have a good time. He was very much like his mother.  
  
Not that she meant to compare, but Zak had been far more like his mother than his father. Sweet and silly, he'd been able to get a smile out of her when nothing else could. He'd taken life lightly, casually. She supposed it was his youth that had kept her from getting irritated with his lack of drive. He was three years her junior, but he'd never felt like a kid to her. Still, he'd been much too young to die.  
  
He was gone, and it was her fault. Regardless of what Lee said, the decision to put him in that plane came back to her, and even if the accident was just that, his involvement was her responsibility. She knew she would always carry a measure of guilt over his death, but at least now she wasn't also carrying the fear that Lee or William would turn against her because of it. They had been able to forgive her, even when she wasn't ready to forgive herself.  
  
Lee shifted, rolling onto his back and putting his arm over his eyes before settling back down to sleep. It had been a long night, and he might be a while before he was ready to wake up. That was fine with her. Because, for all her realization, she still had absolutely no clue what she should say to him. 


	6. Resolution

Chapter 6  
  
Lee awoke a long time before he opened his eyes. There was no real reason to rush to get up. He heard rain outside the shelter intermittently, and until they could get clear weather for half an hour or more he really didn't feel it was worth trying to get into the Viper. It would be different if there were lightning, or if the fleet were closer, but they weren't scheduled to meet up with the Galactica for another day.  
  
He peeked out from beneath his arm, the dim light in the shelter seeming unnaturally bright. It hurt slightly to open his eyes, and his head hurt the way it had when he'd shared a bottle of ambrosia with another pilot a few months before. He remembered swearing that he'd never drink again. Now, he remembered why. He wished last night had been as much fun as the last time.  
  
He watched Kara for a moment as she sat by the opening of the shelter. She was sitting quietly, just thinking, and he couldn't help thinking that she looked a lot calmer than she had in a long while. He felt that way himself.  
  
Lee had never really grieved for his brother. He'd been sad, and shocked, and for the longest time he'd been absolutely furious. He'd blamed his father so well, for so long, that the feelings for losing Zak never had time to sink in. Since he'd found out the truth, and had even forgiven his father, his mind and heart had really been in limbo. Anger was the only emotion strong enough to block the pain. He didn't have anyone to be angry with, so he'd just ignored the situation, like the rest of the crew, having no time for anything but survival. A part of him even wanted to stay angry, but he didn't have it in him to be angry with Kara.  
  
If he'd had any lingering reservations about her love for his brother, last night had sent them up in flames. He had never planned to get so emotionally wrecked himself, but had just been reaching out to a friend. He wished he were more sorry that it had gotten out of hand.  
  
He knew that Kara had nightmares. Hell, all of them had nightmares. Living in the warriors quarters, sleeping habits of fellow pilots became very obvious. Jolly woke up screaming at least once a week, and more than once he'd had his own difficult night. They had been through a great deal - far more than he ever thought they would survive - and it was bound to hit them when they were asleep. They didn't have time to grieve for their pasts when they were awake, so their subconscious would work overtime.  
  
But knowing that she had nightmares with the rest of them and watching her gasp and struggle in the midst of a nightmare were two different things. He had almost been able to resist trying to comfort her, knowing that she wouldn't be likely to appreciate the effort, until he'd heard his brother's name. When she had started crying out for Zak, he just hadn't had a choice.  
  
So he'd done his best to wake her up. In the confines of the shelter, it was only practical to put his arms around her. Once he'd done that, the rest had come easily. It had surprised him, really. He wasn't one for the sappy stuff, and he'd never been one to accept comfort himself. A warrior managed on his own, and he'd become adept at it over the years. Aside from that, he'd never been a tactile person. He hadn't always been comfortable when Zak and Kara had their hands on one another, thinking that it belonged in private rather than in public. It was old fashioned, and probably something else he'd gotten from his father, but it was how he felt.  
  
But what he accepted for himself was not what he wanted for Kara. She'd been hurting, and he had just wanted to end her torment. Once he'd heard her voice, heard the way she blamed herself, he hadn't been able to leave her to it. He still found it odd that the very pain he wished on his father, the responsibility and regret, were things he could not bear to have a friend feel. What kind of a son did that make him?  
  
He guessed she needed it. What he hadn't known was that he needed it as well. He hadn't realized how bad he had felt, the regrets he had, until some of them had been released. The relief was enormous, even if it left him with a headache and an uncomfortable distance now between him and his only real friend.  
  
Unfortunately he was left with the morning after. Kara had never acted like a typical woman, either professionally or personally. But last night he'd been reminded that she was indeed a woman, and more than that she was Zak's fiancée. And somewhere in that realization, he found that it didn't matter. She was still his friend, and he wanted to be hers.  
  
When Zak's Viper had taken out the inside of a hanger bay, Lee had lost a brother and a good friend. His father had lost a beloved son. But Kara had lost not only friend and lover, but her future as well. If Zak had lived, he and Kara might have children by now. She might not even be a pilot. She might have been on Caprica during the attack, and she might be dead. She most likely wouldn't have been on the Galactica, because it wasn't until after Zak's death that his father started keeping her so close. Well, he couldn't blame his father for that. Kara was the only child he'd had left. That had been Lee's choice.  
  
There were a thousand "maybes" about the situation, and he knew that there was no point in going over each and every one of them. What had happened was done, and it had been over for two years. But for them, it had definitely not been over last night.  
  
He wasn't sure how many hours they had lain there and cried, but at some point she had fallen into an exhausted sleep. He had continued to hold her for awhile, and he wasn't sure exactly why. He didn't know if she had needed it, but he supposed that he had. He'd always envied Zak that one thing - the freedom to just hold someone. Lee had never been that close to anyone. He'd never been jealous - not exactly - but he'd wanted to find someone that could give him that kind of comfort.  
  
Comfort or not, Kara had definitely given him something last night. She'd given him her trust, and he wouldn't abuse it by pretending it had never happened. The morning might not be comfortable, but it could not be ignored.  
  
"Good morning," he said quietly. He was reluctant to face what was sure to be a difficult situation, but he was more reluctant to allow any more distance to come between them. He'd had enough of that when they were at odds over his father. He didn't want to go back.  
  
"Hey," she replied, looking over at him. She didn't look angry. That could be a good sign.  
  
"How late is it?"  
  
She glanced down at her watch. "Eleven-hundred," she finally replied.  
  
"Later than I thought," he admitted. "I thought the rain had stopped."  
  
"It did. Then it started again. Then it stopped. Now it's just kind of drizzling."  
  
"Great," he told her, sarcasm clear in his voice. "Remind me not to complain about water shortages when we get back to the Galactica. I don't feel like I'll ever get dry."  
  
She grinned back at him. "You don't want to shower with this stuff. It stings. Must be the acidity level."  
  
"Tell me about it," he mumbled, just now noticing the irritation to his skin around his waist. He had taken off his pressure suit in the atmosphere, and hadn't bothered to put it back on. While most of his clothing had dried following his drenching, the thicker areas of his uniform hadn't dried completely from mere body heat.  
  
"You burned?" she asked him.  
  
"Just tender," he replied, adjusting the material about his waist. "How about you? How does your back feel?"  
  
"Fine," she told him, rolling her shoulders as though to prove it. "That cream really worked."  
  
"Salek's finest," he agreed. "The good doctor should have been a chemist."  
  
She nodded at that and turned back to watch as the rain picked up once more. He watched her profile, wondering how best to approach this without getting punched. Finally, he went with the direct approach.  
  
"About last night," he began.  
  
"Don't."  
  
"Kara."  
  
"No," she said firmly. She turned around and faced him directly. "Look, I know it was - well, it wasn't me. But I'm glad if I had to come apart, it was you that had to see me. Just don't tell your father."  
  
"You had a right to come apart," he told her. "More right than most of us. But I don't know what my father has to do with it."  
  
She took a deep breath. "He worries," she finally said. It explained a great deal.  
  
"Tell you what," he offered, reaching over and taking her hand in his. "I won't tell him, if you won't."  
  
She thought about that a minute, then squeezed his hand and nodded. "It'll do."  
  
Lee returned the nod, feeling a deep sense of relief, but not letting go. He continued to hold her hand, because he wasn't finished. "You miss him?" He knew he didn't have to tell her whom he was talking about.  
  
"Of coarse," she admitted, but her voice was steady. "Every day. Mostly at night." She took a deep breath before looking him straight in the eye. "I missed you, too."  
  
He gave her a half-hearted grin. "I'm sorry. Losing him was hard enough. I know I didn't make it any easier by tearing apart what was left of our family. All I can say is that I did what I thought was right. Or maybe not right, but the only thing I thought I could do."  
  
"Right after," she told him, her hand tightening almost painfully on his, "I couldn't even think. I figured that if I didn't have Zak, there wasn't a point. I went to my quarters, closed the door, and went to bed.  
  
"I don't even remember how long I was there. I just remember your dad coming in and telling me I'd been reassigned. He packed my stuff, took me by the hand, and hauled me off to the Galactica. He kept Chief Tyrol after me to be sure I was eating. He'd come into the officer's mess and gripe at me nonstop. At first, I just ate to shut him up. A couple of the guys ribbed me into running with them, to get me to leave my quarters, and I swear your dad was behind that, too.  
  
"Once I was back on my feet, your dad gave me every mission, every training flight, and every opportunity to get into a Viper that there was. I hated it. I didn't ever want to get back into one, but I couldn't tell him 'no', not after everything he'd done. He kept me working so much that I barely had time to sleep, and didn't have any time to dream, nightmares or otherwise. I barely had time to miss him.  
  
"When flying wasn't an option, he stuck me down in the bay doing routine repairs with Calli and the rest. Learned a lot about Vipers with them. The more I learned about how it all went together, the easier flying got. Gradually it just became natural again, and I didn't think about him every time I got in the cockpit."  
  
She paused, looking sheepish about saying so much. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't heard her talk so much since they were kids. But then, there hadn't been so much misunderstood between them since then.  
  
"I didn't know it was so hard for you," he admitted. "I mean, I knew it had to be hard, but I never really thought of how it would change everything."  
  
She shrugged. "If your dad hadn't absolutely made me live, I think I would have died in that bed before I was ready to do anything for myself. He saved my life, Lee, and he never even let me thank him. Every time I try, he just cuts me off."  
  
"I should have been there," Lee said softly. "I shouldn't have run."  
  
"You did what you had to."  
  
"I'm glad someone was there for you. And I'm glad you were there for him. I made it so much worse for him than it had to be."  
  
"In a way, we both did. And we didn't. I think he spent so much time taking care of me, and worrying about you, that it kind of kept him going. That and the Galactica, of course. He had a reason to make himself get up everyday, and after a while you get up and do your job by habit. Then it hurts less."  
  
"Or maybe, you just don't notice it as much," he suggested.  
  
"Maybe."  
  
Lee sat for a few moments, taking simple comfort from Kara's undemanding presence and generous trust. She had given him a lot to think about, and he was pretty sure it was something she hadn't shared with anyone else. In her way, she was as private as he was. She talked a lot, sure, but most of it was joking around or doing her best to cause trouble. She didn't normally talk about anything serious. It was easy to forget that her feelings ran deep. He was absurdly glad she had reminded him.  
  
"I've been mad for so long that I don't know how else to be," he told her. "Now I just feel empty."  
  
"I know the feeling," she agreed. "And in time, you fill the hole with other things. It isn't the same, but it gets you through the days."  
  
"And the nights?"  
  
She smiled, squeezing his hand again. "The nights, you just get through any way you can. And sometimes, if you're lucky, you find someone who makes it a little easier because they really care."  
  
He nodded. "The rain has stopped."  
  
She looked out, letting him off the hook, and letting him change the subject. Falling apart at night was one thing, but in the light of day they both needed to hold it together.  
  
"That's your cue," she said softly, releasing his hand with a final squeeze. "Don't forget I'm here when you get to the Galactica."  
  
"Do you want to take my ship?" he offered. After all, he was flight leader, and technically it was his responsibility to ensure the safety of his team. He couldn't do that if he left her behind.  
  
"She's your ship," she said with a smile, referring to the Mach II that had once been his father's, and how carried his own name and call sign. "Just be sure you send someone back for me. This place is boring as hell."  
  
Lee reached for his pressure suit, unzipping his uniform as he did so. There was no telling how long the rain would stop, and he wanted a few minutes to check over his Viper to be sure the acidity hadn't compromised any seals before he went back to the Galactica. Kara sat looking out of the shelter while he changed.  
  
"Anything you want me to bring back?" he asked her as he zipped his flight suit over the pressure suit. "Besides a rescue crew, that is?"  
  
"Nah, I'm fine," she told him with a smile. "Maybe sitting here for a couple of hours will do me good."  
  
He nodded his agreement, and then paused as he was leaving the shelter. "I know the long-range is a risk, but if you need it, your wireless is still operational. I checked it before I came in last night."  
  
"And my gun's in the bag. I'll keep it close," she assured him. "Don't worry, Lee. I'll be fine."  
  
He still didn't feel entirely good about leaving her, but there was no other way to manage this that he could think of. She wouldn't take his ship unless he ordered her, and there was no real reason to do it. She was just as capable of defending herself as he was, should there be a need, and in an emergency she could use the long-range wireless and have help jump to her in minutes. Ordering her to take his place would inadvertently show her that he didn't trust her, and that was far from the truth.  
  
"It'll take me under an hour to reach the fleet, and just over that to get back. Give us another hour to set up a ship. That's three, so if you haven't heard back in four I want you to use the long-range, regardless of the consequences. Got it?"  
  
"Got it," she agreed. "You're not back by seventeen-hundred, and I call for help."  
  
She walked him to his Viper, helping him check seals and go over the pre- flight checklist quickly and efficiently. Then she stood back near the shelter while he closed his cockpit and ignited his engines. He didn't look back to see if she waved goodbye, but instead put his finger on the turbo thrust button. The sooner he got back to the Galactica, the sooner he could come back and get her. 


	7. Conclusion

Chapter 7  
  
Kara lay back in her bunk and closed her eyes. It was good to be home, such as it was.  
  
She'd had enough sitting and doing nothing while she'd been down on the planet. She really didn't want more, but she was tolerating the flight rotation. It would be a couple of days before her name was back at the top of the list for long patrol. She certainly hoped that Tyrol could get a few more Vipers pieced together so her turn would pop up more often.  
  
She had been back on the Galactica for most of a day, now. Lee had been true to his word, and in only two and a half hours a cargo ship had arrived with Chief Tyrol and a whole crew. It hadn't taken them long to load the Viper into the ship and bring it back to the Galactica. It hadn't taken much longer than that for Calli to find a dysfunctional circuit that had probably sparked the fire. On the Galactica or in space it wasn't an issue, but given too much oxygen a single spark had done a lot of damage.  
  
If she had been a little disappointed when Lee had not been among her rescue crew, she had been more relieved. She needed some time before she could process and accept all she had told him, and all that he had said. The fact that the conversation should have taken place years ago didn't alter that fact.  
  
She had acted out of character; that was for sure. So had he, for that matter. Maybe they had both needed to vent their feelings a little, or just needed someone to feel the same. Whatever had caused it, she was glad it was over and she wasn't looking for a repeat.  
  
"You're in bed early," Sharon told her, returning from the showers with a towel around her hair and another around her body. As a distraction, Kara decided she would do.  
  
"So are you," she fired back. "Not spending the night in enlisted quarters?"  
  
Sharon sat down on her bunk, opposite Kara, and looked her in the eye. "Is that a problem?"  
  
Kara couldn't quite define the note in her voice. It might have been challenge, but experience taught her there was probably some uncertainty as well. For all her rank and quick thinking, Sharon was still a rookie in a lot of ways. "Not to me," she finally said. "You know it will be to some of the crew."  
  
"Not to mention the commander," she agreed.  
  
"Did he say something?"  
  
Sharon sighed and tugged the towel from her hair to dry it vigorously. "Not exactly. There was an indirect lecture on the importance of maintaining discipline in the working environment, and the potential difficulties associated with fraternization, but he didn't really name names. The word 'discretion' came up a lot, though."  
  
"He wouldn't be direct," Kara said. "Not unless he had no choice, or a specific complaint to follow up. He mostly stays out of personal relationships."  
  
Sharon shrugged. "Well, it looks like discreet is indeed the mantra," she admitted. "But I guess it's no worse than it was before. We're still sneaking around, and battling opposite shifts, and fighting just about everything else there is."  
  
"If he's what you want, you just have to put up with it," Kara said, sitting up to face her friend. "It isn't going to get any easier.  
  
"I know, but I was really hoping it wouldn't get harder."  
  
"They're giving him a hard time on the deck," Kara told her. "He's probably just letting things cool down. I mean, most of us knew before the attack - if we knew you - but you guys have done everything now except formally announce an engagement. There's bound to be fallout."  
  
"Yeah," she agreed. "How about you? Everything settling down?"  
  
"Everything?"  
  
"Well, I figured there'd be some fireworks with you and Captain Apollo back on the same ship. It's no secret that he doesn't get along with the commander, and you're a little more than defensive about him."  
  
"He's a great commanding officer," Kara said, her voice taking on just the defensive note that Sharon was referring to. "We should all be defending him."  
  
"My point exactly," Sharon said with a grin.  
  
"We talked," Kara admitted. "He and his old man are talking, too. They'll work it out. I'm just staying out of it."  
  
Sharon nodded, and began combing out her long hair. Kara decided that she wasn't likely to get any rest if she stayed in quarters, and she didn't like the way this diversion had turned personal. She wasn't much for sleeping during the day in the first place, and definitely not when others were around. "I'm gonna run," she told Sharon. "Be back in a while."  
  
After grabbing shorts and her running shoes, Kara headed for the main passageway of the Galactica. She made several laps before slowing to a walk to cool down. The corridors weren't as crowded as they often were, but dodging people got on her nerves after enough time.  
  
Two more laps of the Galactica, and Kara was feeling just as edgy as she had when she'd begun. She didn't like feeling restless, and wasn't sure what to do about it. When in doubt, she normally headed for her Viper. There was no telling who was flying it at the moment, but she headed for the flight deck anyway.  
  
Kara settled herself into a quiet corner of the bay, sitting on a metal step. She rested her chin on her hands and watched the controlled chaos as Tyrol ordered his crew around while various ships eased into and out of the bay. The constant hum of activity was a lot more calming than her exercise had been. She had spent a lot of time down here over the years, and it was familiar when little else was.  
  
She wasn't surprised that she was feeling out of place. The officer's quarters had tripled its occupants since the war had begun, so there was little familiar in there. The ship was likewise more crowded and noisy, again out of necessity. Everyone was still joggling for a place in the new system, and no one was quite fitting. She knew that. It didn't make the feelings any easier.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Kara smiled as she looked up at Lee. "I thought you were leading patrol," she said.  
  
"Wrong again," he returned with a smile. "Just came in."  
  
"I'm getting used to it," she remarked. "We talked about my skills before."  
  
"So what are you doing?"  
  
"Watching," she replied quickly. Then, meeting his eyes she decided on honesty. "Being bored out of my mind."  
  
He grinned again. "Looks like we may be getting some more busy work," he told her. "We need some pilots to do some simple shuttling to distribute food. A pretty good cache has been located aboard one of the ships, but spreading it out takes time. How do you feel about being a volunteer?"  
  
This time her smile was more genuine. "Anything," she admitted. "So long as it gets me in the air."  
  
"I thought you'd feel that way. Get in uniform, and I'll meet you down at the shuttle to launch. Just don't leave without me."  
  
"You just got in," she complained. "How'd you get two assignments in a row?"  
  
"I'm chief pilot," he returned quickly as he turned to leave. "I make the schedules. Besides, I've got connections with the commander."  
  
Kara couldn't hold back a laugh. When Lee reached down to her, she grasped his hand to pull herself up, and turned to follow him up the stairs towards quarters.  
  
The mini-mission lasted only a couple of hours. As Lee had said, it was just a matter of shuttling food from one place to another. She took care of the flying, which left him free to manage all the diplomatic details such as arguing with various ship captains when they didn't feel they were getting their fair share.  
  
She was always amazed that he could stay so calm with them, stating over and over again that the allotments were based on ship size and compliment, and that they were not negotiable. Some how, he managed all of it without having to hit anyone. Amazing.  
  
The short "mission" was over before she'd really had time to settle in, but at least it had accomplished what she was sure Lee had intended. It had interrupted the boredom and got her behind the controls of a ship. Even the short hops from ship to ship was flying, and it was just what she had needed.  
  
After landing back on the Galactica, she took care of shutting down systems while Lee checked in with the flight chief about ship performance and anticipated needs in the next few days.  
  
Kara tucked her helmet under her arm and left the shuttle. She didn't see Lee, but she assumed he was managing more details and resolved to thank him later. She dropped her helmet off at it's hook, and walked into the Galactica's passageway.  
  
She was almost back to her quarters when she paused in front of a nondescript hatch along a side passageway. She debated momentarily, thinking he really wouldn't be there anyway, before finally knocking on the door.  
  
"Come in."  
  
She took a deep breath and eased the door open. The room inside was small, despite serving as both home and office, and the lights were dimmed. "I'm sorry sir," she said quickly, preparing to back out the door. "I didn't mean to wake you."  
  
"Don't worry about it," he told her as he reached for his glasses. "I wasn't asleep. Just resting a bit. Everyone thinks I was being generous giving up space, but the truth is that I wanted a bed in my office."  
  
She laughed at that, but came in the door anyway. "I didn't mean to bother you," she began. "But I wanted to."  
  
"To." William prompted.  
  
"To see if you were okay," she admitted sheepishly. "A lot has happened, and I just wanted to be sure."  
  
"To be sure the old man was holding it together?"  
  
"Yes sir," she said softly.  
  
He took a deep breath, gesturing her to the chair at his desk as while he remained seated on the edge of his bed. "I don't think any of us are really okay," he told her gently. "But it's getting better. Lee and I talked."  
  
"He mentioned that," she said with a smile.  
  
"We're a long way from being where we were, but I think we both know what's important now. I don't think he blames me, or you, for what happened."  
  
She nodded, but didn't have any words to answer that.  
  
"How about you, Starbuck?" he asked gently. "Holding together okay?"  
  
She thought about that a moment, because she would never consider lying to this man, even inadvertently. She had too much respect for him. She might have omitted information in the past, from guilt or concern or fear, but she had never lied. "I think I'll be okay," she finally told him. "Lee and I have been talking, too."  
  
He nodded at that, giving her another smile. "He was in quite a rush when he got back from the planet," William told her. "He wouldn't even wait until he was through the debriefing before he ordered Tyrol down to the planet."  
  
"He would have been that way if he'd left anyone behind," she reminded him.  
  
"You're right. I would have been, too, probably. I never liked leaving my men behind, even when I knew they could do the job better than I could."  
  
"Didn't you always call that 'the responsibility of command'?"  
  
He smiled. "I guess I did. He has a gift for leading, that's for sure."  
  
"He gets it honest," she told him.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
She nodded in return. "I should go," she said quickly. "You probably have things to do. But I wanted to say," she paused for a long moment, took a couple of deep breaths, and then continued, completely changing the subject. "Thank you for talking to Colonel Tigh. I know he had every right to press charges. I'll try to keep my hands in my pockets around him from now on."  
  
"What makes you think I talked to him?"  
  
She didn't bother to answer, just thanked him again. She was almost out the door when he called her back.  
  
"Kara?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
William stepped forward and gave her a one armed hug, patting her gently on the back as he did so. "Thanks for looking out for me," he said simply. "For both of us."  
  
She swallowed tightly and returned the hug, then headed back towards her quarters. When she got there, Sharon was gone, and she had to wonder if her friend had given in and gone to see the Chief. Lee's uniform was on his bunk, three beds down from hers, so he was probably in the shower. The room was quiet for a change, and she settled into her bunk without even taking her uniform off. She was still lying there when Lee came in.  
  
"You still awake?"  
  
She shrugged one shoulder and didn't bother to open her eyes. "Just enjoying the quiet."  
  
Lee didn't say any more. He didn't have to. They both knew how rare it was to get any time alone in the crowded quarters. She heard him rustling clothes and blankets while he dressed and got into bed, and she smiled when he told her good night.  
  
"Night, Kara."  
  
"Night, Lee," she answered. "Sleep well."  
  
She didn't hear anything after that beyond his quiet breathing. At first, she didn't even really try to go to sleep. Peace and quiet were rare on the Galactica. But more than the quiet, right now she was enjoying the peace. She hadn't known just how great the burden of guilt had become until she had been forgiven. She hadn't realized how much she had worried about William Adama until his son had forgiven him. She hadn't known just how hard it would be to forgive herself, but she was beginning to do just that.  
  
There was a lot to be said for sleeping with a clean conscience.  
  
The End (finally) 


End file.
